ed; despite windows open to the evening, no
night insects circled the globes that glowed at intervals from niches in
the walls.

Galatea stood in a doorway to his left, leaning half-wearily against the
frame; he placed the bowl of fruit on a bench at the entrance and moved
to her side.

"This is yours," she said, indicating the room beyond. He looked in upon
a pleasant, smaller chamber; a window framed a starry square, and a
thin, swift, nearly silent stream of water gushed from the mouth of a
carved human head on the left wall, curving into a six-foot basin sunk
in the floor. Another of the graceful benches covered with the silver
cloth completed the furnishings; a single glowing sphere, pendant by a
chain from the ceiling, illuminated the room. Dan turned to the girl,
whose eyes were still unwontedly serious.

"This is ideal," he said, "but, Galatea, how am I to turn out the
light?"

"Turn it out?" she said. "You must cap it--so!" A faint smile showed
again on her lips as she dropped a metal covering over the shining
sphere. They stood tense in the darkness; Dan sensed her nearness
achingly, and then the light was on once more. She moved toward the
door, and there paused, taking his hand.

"Dear shadow," she said softly, "I hope your dreams are music." She was
gone.

Dan stood irresolute in his chamber; he glanced into the large room
where Leucon still bent over his work, and the Grey Weaver raised a hand
in a solemn salutation, but said nothing. He felt no urge for the old
man's silent company and turned back into his room to prepare for
slumber.

* * * * *

Almost instantly, it seemed, the dawn was upon him and bright elfin
pipings were all about him, while the odd ruddy sun sent a broad
slanting plane of light across the room. He rose as fully aware of his
surroundings as if he had not slept at all; the pool tempted him and he
bathed in stinging water. Thereafter he emerged into the central
chamber, noting curiously that the globes still glowed in dim rivalry to
the daylight. He touched one casually; it was cool as metal to his
fingers, and lifted freely from its standard. For a moment he held the
cold flaming thing in his hands, then replaced it and wandered into the
dawn.

Galatea was dancing up the path, eating a strange fruit as rosy as her
lips. She was merry again, once more the happy nymph who had greeted
him, and she gave him a bright smile as he chose a sweet gre